


Sanguine Heart

by FluffyGlitterPantsDragon



Series: The Joys of Public Service [4]
Category: Lucifer (TV), Scrubs (TV)
Genre: #savelucifer, Angst, Blood, Dan is a precious cinnamon roll, Douchifer, Everything will be fine, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, J.D. is an ass, M/M, Medical Trauma, My beta is awesome, Pain, Wing Reveal, lots of pain, my poor Luci
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyGlitterPantsDragon/pseuds/FluffyGlitterPantsDragon
Summary: Lucifer is an impatient patient when he gets carted into Sacred Heart to deal with a very bad wound, requiring difficult decisions. Dan is a precious cinnamon roll, and Chloe has to maintain her distance.





	1. Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Just_Mad_Enough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Mad_Enough/gifts).



> Special shout-out and thanks to Just_Mad_Enough, who is an amazing Beta. Like, for real. I'm very lucky to have found someone who enjoys both fandoms this work encompasses, AND is great at picking up and correcting details.
> 
> Chapter 2 will have mentions of blood, surgical procedures and Dad knows what else, but it's gonna be graphic.
> 
> As always, see series notes, and thanks again for joining me on this crossover collision. I think this is my new favorite thing I'm writing.

Another late Tuesday night and everything was perfectly normal in Sacred Heart. Turk chilled in the on-call room, J.D. avoided the Janitor, and Dr. Cox went home after his shift. No outbreaks, no plagues, no workplace accidents and Doug hadn’t lost any of his ‘dead children.’ Yet.

Carla’s personal phone buzzed. Juggling charts, she picked up, before she caught the number incoming. “Hello?”

“Hey Carla, it’s Dan. We’re in the ER carport.”

She slapped the charts on the nurse station counter, her heart going cold. “What? Now? We _who?_ Are you okay?”

“I’m more or less fine, but Lucifer is injured. He’s mobile and upright, but there’s a little bit of a situation, and we need people we can trust.”

“Oh, my God, Dan, is he in an ambulance?”

“I drove. Also, I’m never allowed to drive Lucifer’s car again. Can you come out here?”

“Why don’t you come inside?”

“I’d rather talk to you first.”

“You guys are going to be the death of me. I need to hand off some patients to another nurse but l can meet you in a minute. You don’t sound stressed, so I take it he’s stable enough?”

“He’s not bleeding, right now. He can walk, but he can’t fl-he can’t otherwise get around well on his own.”

“Okay...Hold tight, I’ll be right there," she added a mental curse along the lines of _this better be good._

* * *

The bright fluorescent lights outside the hospital cast harsh shadows on and around the two men. Dan stood a little less rigidly than Lucifer, both radiating tension. But they were both standing. Crickets sang loudly behind them somewhere.

Lucifer looked pinched, but she couldn’t see any active bleeding, just as Dan said. He had a near-black suit and white shirt. He skipped the vest this time. Whatever had happened, it seems that he’d had the time to change clothes before coming here. She felt immensely relieved about that – it meant that whatever injury he had, it wasn’t life-threatening.

His usually perfectly coiffed hair lacked product, ruffling gently in the warm night breeze. It was hard to tell out here, but his color might be a bit off too. Lucifer stood hunched in on himself a little, trying to stand straight-backed but not quite succeeding.

Carla crossed her arms. “This better be good. You’re standing in the Emergency drop-off lane of my hospital, why? An ambulance could pull up any time.”

Dan sighed. “A few days ago on a stakeout, Lucifer was...injured.”

Lucifer himself wore a flat expression, clenching his jaw. Carla readily recognized the signs of a man who had been told to stand by and keep his mouth shut.

She pointed to the sliding glass doors, mentally prodding them. “Get your asses in here, then. Are you okay, Dan? What happened?”

“I don’t know how much I can say, except Lucifer here sustained some injuries while we were on a case. He healed up from the minor damage, but we need help with a more...problematic injury. I’m more or less fine.”

“Okay, what are you waiting for? Come inside to the front desk, and we’ll get him admitted right away. Do you have the police report on you?”

Lucifer ground his teeth, jaw working but no actual sound escaping him.

Dan groaned. “Can we skip it?”

She squinted. “So, you show up late at night at my work, no police report. You made me drag _my_ sweet ass out here, and neither of you needs immediate medical attention?”

“Look, I know you don’t put up with anyone’ bullshit. How can we get an x-ray for Lucifer involving as few people as possible?” Dan did not have a poker face, so he didn’t bother beating around the bush, or trying to pretend they _weren’t_ acting suspiciously.

“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

Lucifer went around Dan, stepping gingerly. “My dear Dan here insists that your hospital is the best place to deal with my little problem. I hoped and expected the issue to resolve on its own, but that hasn’t happened.”

“Maybe you can tell me what’s going on before Laverne comes out here looking for me and starts asking questions. What’s your _little problem_?”

“I was -”

Dan interjected. “Injured.”

He started to turn his head to glare, but stopped hard. “Honestly, Dan, don’t you trust your own cousin? Granted, I don’t have the best relationship with _my_ family, but I understand you lot to be _much_ more forgiving of one another. Or at least more than Dad.”

Dan rubbed his face with both hands, rolling his eyes.

Something _was_ going on. Carla snapped, “This is some weird family issue?”

She’d swear Lucifer’s eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t be in this situation if my Dad hadn’t gone all old-testament on things. Going around, creating bloody Mirac-”

Dan raised and then quickly lowered his hand back down as if stopping himself from smacking Lucifer on the shoulder. Instead, he took Lucifer’s near hand lightly with a quick squeeze. “Hey, yeah, weird family issue.”

Dan’s aborted movement and tender touches told her he didn’t want to trigger or aggravate a pain point. They weren’t here because of a cock-up on their part. Something serious had happened _to_ them.

Her heart twinged for this strange man. She hadn’t been a nurse for the last fourteen years for nothing. Something critically wrong needed to be dealt with, but they were still being cagey. “ _If_ I find him a room, you have to tell me what’s going on. I’m not risking my job for random nonsense.”

“Have I ever come to you over nonsense?”

“I don’t recall you _ever_ coming to me before for medical help. Needed or otherwise.” As if insanity didn’t regularly happen at the hospital already. “Is this at least _actually_ related to a police case? Or would you rather your Lieutenant not know what you two are up to?”

His boyfriend stood like a stone. Dan bit the inside of his lip. “The stakeout went pear-shaped and Lucifer got caught in the crossfire. Literally. I got away with a few cuts and bruises, even though _I’m_ with the police and he’s a civilian consultant. Should’ve been the other way 'round.”

Carla noticed her cousin did look a bit stiff too.

Lucifer’s face softened marginally. “Daniel-”

“Lucifer’s injuries happened on the job. But if it would help, we can say it didn’t. I know this is going to mess up your night, but gunfire was exchanged.”

“Were any other officers hurt?”

Dan continued, “No, Lucifer created a distraction and _became_ the target. I don’t think he actually intended to draw _all_ of their fire," his glare was a bit softer now.

Carla cast another eye over the Devil’s nearly black suit. She didn’t pick up any darker spots that could have been blood “So, the LAPD will be filing paperwork, or not?”

“Uh, sure, yeah, probably. Or maybe not. It probably depends on if the x-rays show what we think they will.”

 _Uuuuuuuggggh_. “Fine. Come straight in and we’ll skip signing-in for now. But only because you guys sent us the best wedding gift out of everyone. Keep your heads down when we pass the nurse station, I do not want Laverne to know you’re here. You guys are lucky it’s a slow night.”

“Chloe is a couple minutes behind us. She has, uhm, paperwork she went to the precinct to pick up.”

Lucifer aborted another neck motion with a wince. “She does?”

Dan nodded. “She has something in her car, I’m sure. We just really need to get inside before she parks.”

 _What the actual hell does that mean?_ She pointed sharply between them “I don’t know what is going on, yet, but you two already owe me big time, understand? Let’s get you fixed up.”

* * *

Carla dropped a generic clipboard in the plastic box on the outside of an exam room door and pulled it closed behind them.

She held an additional clipboard with forms under one arm, resting against her lavender scrub top. “So, is it too much to ask to fill out some admitting paperwork?”

“Chloe is, uhm-” he sent a text one-handed, presumably to Chloe.

Carla breathed a prayer, putting on her ‘nurse face.’ “No, she isn’t, so don’t lie to me, Cuz. Regardless of police reports - or not - it would be very helpful to have some basic information, like insurance, address, social or visa - stuff like that?” She held out a board with an attached pen to Dan.

Lucifer attempted a half curl of his lips in a strained smile. It didn’t come off as well as he thought it did. “Carla, love, we’re very sorry to put you out like this, I hope you know that.”

His voice constricted in his throat. It wasn’t a good sign, but he wasn’t coughing and he sounded clear from across the room.

Dan reluctantly took the paperwork from Carla. “Uhm. What do you guys do for, say, patients who don’t want to be in the system?”

“What, no insurance?”

“Right, no insurance.”

Well, this was awesome. Dr. Kelso was not fond of patients without insurance. “What about the LAPD? Even if we keep this incident off workman’s comp, your health insurance through work is still available.”

Lucifer leaned his hips against the exam bed, but didn’t sit. Carla could see from here he wasn’t taking full breaths, but he was trying hard to hide it. “Well, I’m not _officially_ with the LAPD.”

She frowned, pulling her hair back. “Aren’t you a consultant?”

“When I joined, I made a deal with the Lieutenant who headed the department at the time. And then the paperwork mysteriously went into hiding. And we just never got around to making it official.”

 _Where on earth did Dan find this guy?_ “So, you’ve been doing the work for free? This whole time? _And getting shot at?_ ”

“I like solving cases and _they_ like not having to pay me.”

 _No way._ “Dan!”

“He’s quirky. The State Department is certainly happier without ‘Lucifer’ appearing in court documents for suspect trials.”

“This is _beyond_ quirky. Fine, you can pay out of pocket. At least I know you'll be good for it. Can you fill out the other stuff, or can I look forward to more ‘quirks’ that will be a pain in the ass tonight?”

The expression on his face was not promising.

“Fine. Luci, I’ll take your vitals, but you better have a damn good reason for putting me through hell tonight.”

Dan looked at Lucifer. “No.”

Lucifer clamped his lips flat, neck twitching.

She ignored them. “Take off the shirt and jacket so I can listen to your lungs.”

“Is this necessary?”

Dan patted his leg. “Dude, there’s going to be a lot more to come. I’ve been on the business end of a cranky nurse many times. The sooner you shut up and do what they say, the sooner we can get you fixed up and out of here. She knows what she’s doing.”

“Maybe if we just wait a few more days-”

Carla brought the heat. “Do it, or I’ll get an orderly in here and they do what they do down in the ER - cut all your clothes off with whatever sharp instrument is available, and I don’t give a rat’s ass what they cost.” Frankly, when patients acted like assholes and weren’t suffering life-threatening injuries, tossing pricey, destroyed clothes in the medical waste bin was hilarious. “And then at least I get to join the ‘Everyone who got to see Lucifer naked club.’ which will make _my_ evening better, but not yours.”  

She breathed out and attempted to soften her voice. “How about we start over and you tell me what actually happened? And take your jacket and shirt off.”

Lucifer clearly did not want to be in anyone’s care. It made her wonder how Dan had managed to get him to even come here in the first place.

Dan offered to help. Warmth snuck up into her, watching her cousin try to figure out the least painful way to get the clothing off. Quirky or not, they cared for each other. “ _Why_ you dressed in layers when you knew you’d have to take them off again, I’ll never know. Here, I’ve done this before. Move over.”

She worked out which shoulder had the mystery injury, folding the jacket off one arm, then the other. Lucifer hissed and cursed.

“It’s harder to get these things off than on. I don’t know why you won’t let me cut it off.”

“I will not be treated like an invalid.”

Oooooh, one of _those_ patients. “If you want to cause yourself more pain, I won’t argue with you. However, you might be causing additional damage that will take longer to heal later.”

He looked ready to argue further, but tugged his shirt tail out of his slacks with one arm. When he moved to pull apart the lowest button, his left arm didn’t cooperate. Dan wore a total ‘I told you so’ expression but didn’t say anything.

They were as bad as any hetero couple. Her patience ran thin. “The shirt is more fitted than the jacket. It’s going to roll your shoulder getting it off, and you’re already involuntarily curled up the wrong direction.”

Lucifer snapped, “Fine.”

With care, Carla pulled apart the remaining buttons, then retrieved scissors out of a cabinet and cut down the back of his collar. The white silk came off easily in halves.

She unlooped her stethoscope from her neck, about to set it in her ears when she got a look at his back. He was unmarked. She went around to his front, nothing there either on his chest. “Okay, so did you dislocate your shoulder? I can tell visually which one is hurt, but -“ he looked healthy other than how he held himself.

Dan’s pained expression told her he wasn’t going to give out more answers than he had to. “There’s probably something dislocated, maybe some ribs out or cracked.

“So there’s no reason for me to listen to his chest? Dan?”

“There’s something else in there too.”

 _Men_. She held back her comment at the look in Lucifer’s eyes. His pupils were dilated and he leaned forward a bit with shallow breaths. She placed the resonator over his heart. Heat flowed off him over her hand. His heartbeat about as fast as she expected, for someone in pain, but it sounded regular. “Just breathe normally if you can, okay honey? Tell me if the pressure hurts.”

Carla moved around and carefully laid the instrument on his back, which looked swollen on both sides. He flinched but didn’t move. His upper back muscles spasmed across his shoulders. “Okay, whatever is happening to him, it’s not in his lungs, or heart. Nothing sounds obstructed, but he is tight and I don’t think he’s fully filling his lungs.”

Carla positioned Lucifer to get a blood pressure cuff on him, moving the stethoscope to his inner arm. “Luci, be quiet while I do this, okay? It doesn’t take long.”

Dan relaxed a little and nodded. “I’m hoping we can just get that x-ray and get out of your hair.”

Lucifer’s eyes darted in Dan’s direction, who winced.

“Out of my hair? You think you can just leave?”

“We have a backup plan," he added, pitifully.

“You two aren’t going anywhere on my watch.” She glared them into silence while she worked, then jotted down the BP. “Elevated, but within normal ranges for pain induced high blood pressure. Luci, sweetie, I can give you something for the pain, but I need to know if you have any allergies to any medications?”

Lucifer tensed, then thought better of shaking his head. “None. But it won’t help. My metabolism has an extremely high tolerance to drugs. I’m going to work through them too fast for it to be any help.”

 _Great._ “Well, I can’t make you take them. If you need surgery, at least there won’t be drugs in your system. And you aren’t showing signs of internal bleeding, so you aren’t being sent down to the ER immediately, but I am paging Turk for a surgical consult and sending you down to Radiology for that x-ray.”

Dan bit his lip. “Radiology? Can’t you do it?”

“No, I can’t, sweetie, that’s the kind of thing Radiology handles. Just because I look like I know everything doesn’t mean I do.”

“You remember that thing I said where I needed someone we can trust? That goes, well, triple for radiology.”

Lucifer looked like he wanted to stab someone. He was definitely paler than the last time she saw him.

“What’s going to show up on an x-ray that you two are terrified of?”

Dan put his hands in his jean pockets. “Bullets.”

Lucifer clutched the edges of the exam table, indenting the cushion almost into itself. “Daniel.”

Grumpily, “ _One_ of them is going to have to look at the damn x-ray, at minimum before we get it back.”

“I still fail to see why Ella can’t just do this.”

Dan sighed. “You already _know_ why. For one, she doesn’t have an x-ray machine. And even if she did, she’s not a surgeon. She cuts up and pokes dead bodies, not live ones. We’ve been over this.”

Lucifer whined. “And I know any number of medically talented shady individuals I wouldn’t mind subjecting the risk of exposure to.”

“Yeah, because that’s all we need, someone else to cut you up and _then_ come back here and have Carla fix you.”

She growled, putting the pressure cuff away without slamming the cabinet doors. Barely. “Both of you need to stop, immediately. How are there bullets in you Luci and where?”

He shot a last glance at Dan before speaking. “I was hit in the left shoulder, on or near bone. By multiple bullets. I’m not sure how many after the first, but I’m certain something snapped and isn’t healing properly.”

 _Why are they talking about old injuries?_ “When did this happen? You don’t even have a scar.”

Lucifer spat it out with a wince. “Last week.”

She closed her eyes. “God, give me strength. If you’re going to be a stubborn _ass_ , I’m going to dump you down the road at the 24-hour veterinary hospital. Since this is so important to you, I’ll let the tech set you up and take the images, but I’ll view and print them, alright? The Devil is going to owe me a lot of favors.”

Dan opened his mouth.

She pointed “SHUT IT. I can guaran-damn-tee you that if there’s actually a foreign object showing up on those images, we’re going to have a surgeon involved, especially if it’s magic bullets that broke bones without either an exit or _entry_ wound. God help you, if this is all a massively unfunny stunt that J.D. and Turk put you up to, I will skin all four of you alive with my bare hands.”

Lucifer grated out, “We should have brought Maze. She and Carla should sit down sometime and discuss punishment ideas for hell.”

Dan smirked. Carla didn’t.

“Take off the rest of your clothes and get in a gown and socks, I’ll page Turk to meet us over at Radiology.”

Lucifer’s face showed severe confusion. “A what?”

Dan tilted his head at the indicated shelf. “A soulless piece of cloth sadistically invented to make any stay at a hospital even more miserable.”

“Nice, Daniel.”

“I’m learning from you.”

Carla slipped the door open. “He’s not wrong. I’ll just grab you a wheelchair and wait outside.”

* * *

They had to bypass the front desk to minimize witnesses. After Cox found Elliot interviewing Lucifer last month, he introduced the Devil to every off-shift Doctor at the bar. It was no secret Lucifer had always enjoyed the reaction he got from others, and that apparently went double for Dr. Cox as a witness to it.

Carla mentioned that sneaking past the desk wouldn’t be an issue as long as no one hung around looking bored. Someone was.

A now familiar figure in navy blue scrubs leaned on his forearms outside the nurse station, within eyeline of the hallway behind. “Laverne. All I’m saying is, if we’re not supposed to eat shrimp, why did God make them?”

Carla let go of a grumbling Lucifer in a wheelchair long enough to shove Dan at the desk. She hissed, “Distract them!”

A scratchy woman’s voice replied curtly from the inside of the counter. “I’m not Jewish.”

J.D. did a double take at Dan’s stumbling appearance from the hallway, eyes widening in alarm. “Ahh! Laverne! Satan’s boyfriend is here!”

Every intern, doctor and orderly on the floor locked suddenly had their eyes trained on them. Dan swore on his life he heard Carla cover a laugh down the hallway.

Laverne stopped in the middle of whatever she was doing. “Who the what now? Q-Tip, are you daydreaming again?”

 _Mission accomplished. Yay?_ “Hey, party crasher. New person. I’m Detective Dan Espinoza, Carla’s cousin,” he tried a disarming smile. “You may have heard about me recently.”

Dr. Dorian straightened. “Laverne. _Dan_ here has a very special relationship with the Devil. Like you would with Jesus if Jesus were real. I mean here.”

The nurse didnt look amused. “Oh no, you didn’t.”

“Maybe slightly less special. But I don’t know how open-minded Mr. Roberts is.”

Dan stopped, idly wondering if conversations around here routinely went from casual to wildly uncomfortable in zero seconds flat.

Laverne squared up. “Are you talking about that looker Dr. Cox brought by the desk last month to scare me? Please. That man was trying way too hard.”

J.D. shivered. “That guy is creepy. Oh, yeah, and also, _SATAN._  Honestly, is fiery hell sex worth your soul?”

Dan bit his tongue. Hard. _Must not turn into Lucifer. Just keep your mouth shut, Espinoza._

Laverne was not amused. “Honey, I’m pretty sure the last place God would let the Devil wander around would be a hospital. Let alone _this_ place.”

J.D. side-eyed him. “Laverne. I don’t think you appreciate the severity of the situation. Satan is probably in this hospital _right now._ Did you come up here to see Carla, or is your ‘underworld non-dwelling- _since he’s here’_ lover trawling for weak hearted patients to trade for their tender souls?”

Dan rolled his eyes to the ceiling. _This is actually worse than when Lucifer started at the precinct._ “He doesn’t do that.”

“That sounds a lot like something _someone_ who made a bad deal for their soul would say.”

“Don’t you mean a good deal?”

J.D. pointed at Dan energetically. “Ah HA! Laverne. There’s a man in this building with no soul.”

“Dr. Cox isn’t here tonight, sweetie.” To Dan, “Your friend should think about getting therapy.”

“Lucifer is, actually. He has a shrink he sees once a week.”

“That’s good to hear. His life would probably get better if he changed his name.”

“He’s pretty attached to it. Hey, do you mind if I go-”

J.D. interjected, “To hell? Because that’s what happens when you’re in bed with the Devil.”

Dan had just about had enough. “Really? Because when I’m in bed with the Devil, it’s a lot more like-”

Laverne wasn’t the only one at the end of their patience. “As much as you think I want to hear the end of that sentence, I really don’t.”

“Well, how about you keep that welp over there on a tighter leash, then? Maybe stop him from running that motormouth of his, since all that seems to be coming out are slurs directed at my…at Lucifer?” Laverne looked at Dan. Dan crossed his arms over his chest, standing his ground.

The impressive, possibly-scarier-than-Maze woman looked away first. “Q-Tip, I love drama as much as the next nurse, but I do have actual work to do tonight. How about you dig up some of your legendary bedside manner?”

“He’s not a patient!”

“Not tonight, but we’re all in the same public service boat, so be nice and leave everything else to Jesus. Dan, sweetie, do you want me to page Carla? She said she had to go on a errand for a patient, but she should be back in a bit, if you want to wait.” Passive-aggressive topic change at its finest. But whatever worked, right?

 _Thank God. No._ “That’s okay, I’ll say hi when she’s free, but I dropped by to follow up on a case.”

J.D. at least looked away, abashed. “Everyone just seems to adore him within two seconds of meeting him and it’s just weird. Plus, you know, Satan.”

Laverne gave him an eye. “Are you just jealous that Dr. Cox jumped on him like a new best friend?”

“...No.”

“Mmmmm-hmm. You should have a discussion with Jesus about jealousy. It’s not healthy.”

Once again, Dan bit his tongue. Allies existed in very strange places indeed.

“Sweetie, you looking for paperwork or a patient?”

“Actually, a suspect was shot by one of our guys in a stakeout last week, and I just dropped by to see if they felt like talking.” _I'm just not sure he was sent here, what his name was, or if he even lived long enough to be helped._

“Do you need a room number?”

“I was just on my way, and thought I’d stop and say ‘hi’. And then apparently get yelled at by a doctor.”

J.D. shifted on his feet. “My new name for you is ‘Dan-2’.”

“Right. Why ‘2’?”

“My brother, unfortunately, is named Dan and I don’t want to confuse the two of you. You have forever tainted the name of Dan.”

“Okay. Then. If you’re done, I’m going to go find my- uhm, guy.”

* * *

Hospitals, despite being the place you go to be fixed, rarely feel so unforgiving as when waiting for answers.

Jim the Radiologist was not happy about being left out of the loop. His wife was on the nursing staff, and Carla agreed to swap several shifts for her in exchange for the bizarre request that the radiologist not view the images. The amount of favors she was going to owe or be owed grew by the second.

Lucifer grumbled. “Can I at least put my trousers on?”

“Not if you don’t want my husband to cut them off of you in surgery. If the images show internal damage, Turk might have to get you into an O.R.. I didn’t hear anything that sounded like internal bleeding, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe. Jim is waiting inside to show you how to stand.”

The three of them waited near nondescript chairs outside the x-ray room. Carla spotted Turk down the hall and waved to him.

Carla pecked her husband on the cheek when he got close enough. “Hi baby, I have a couple of no-name nut jobs you might be cutting into. Well, one of them. Hey, Dan, where’s Chloe? She can come inside too.”

“She’s waiting outside, and actually, she can’t come in. We don’t know exactly what the range is.”

Carla gripped Lucifer’s ‘John Doe’ clipboard with whitening knuckles. “For what?”

“Honestly, it depends on if and how much surgery Lucifer needs. I can’t make more sense than that right now. I probably shouldn’t have even told you she’s waiting. But if it helps, she’s as irritated as you are.”

“Oh, I _very_ much doubt that.” She threw in a short string of Spanish that made all of the men cringe, and only two understood it.

Turk, in green surgical scrubs, topped with a pre-emptive colorful bandana, eyed the group. “Hey guys? Satan? You don’t look so hot. No pun intended.”

Dan clasped his hands together. “Do you really have to bring Turk in before we know what we’re dealing with?”

Carla muttered something under her breath, then added, “You trust me? You trust _him._ End of story.” To her husband, “Right now, Luci is floating off the books. He can pay out of pocket, but until we run this out to the end, he needs to not ‘be here’, okay? Have you got someone you can plug in for surgery?”

Dan looked surprised, “You guys can do that?”

Turk waved him off. “Sure, all the time, but it’s usually for patients who _can’t_ actually pay, floating on some recently dead guy’s insurance plan. We can’t do it too often, since the insurance companies might look a little sideways at prostate cancer surgery on a 41-year old woman, but it can be done.”

He added to Lucifer, “Sorry to see you here, man, but believe me, we’ll take care of you. As long as this is a one-man job, I may not even have to shuffle around a body."

Lucifer nodded stiffly. Turk was an added living reminder he couldn’t take care of his problem himself.

“And if it’s not?”

“If we need an anesthesiologist, it’s a whole other jar of pickles. I’ll probably have to page Todd too, since there shouldn’t be only two people in the O.R.. Oh, and I’ll have to call downstairs for blood, too. Do you know his blood type, Dan?”

Dan glanced at Lucifer, who cut off an attempt at a shrug with a muttered curse.

“Okay, so, that’s an easy test to run, at least.”

Carla looked them over one last time. “Dan, when we get a house or a have a baby, I expect massive, _massive_ gifts from both of you, got it? Normally, we’d send the images directly to your doctor, but you don’t have one, and I want all of you in the booth anyway.”

She rapped on the door, opening it. “Okay Jim, our friend is ready.”

“One sec.” Dan squeezed Lucifer’s near hand. “Hey, this is going to get fixed, okay? I’ve had a bullet dug out of me before, and it wasn’t fun, but these guys know what they’re doing. Have a little faith.”

Lucifer sighed, breath hitching before he got a full exhale. “Not my strong point, Douche.”

“I know you’re not big on sympathy for the Devil, okay? We got you. I stayed with Chloe in the hospital when she had Trixie. She wasn’t happy about it either.”

The Devil focused on Dan. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“Well, she was born before you got here. It was a hard labor but she didn’t want a C-section unless she had to. She let me hold her hand up until right before the birth, then kicked me out. She didn’t want me there for the final, blood-covered screaming event. I should show you Trixie’s baby photos sometime - she and her mom looked beautiful, even though Chloe hates those ‘right after’ photos.”

Lucifer seemed to visibly relax, so Dan kept going.

“You have no idea how much she hated being completely exhausted after thirty-six hours of pushing a baby girl out of herself. I can’t even imagine it, and I was there for most of it. Let _my_ family take care of you. You’ll be back up and running in no time.”

Dan leaned up and gave Lucifer a quick kiss. Carla ‘awww’d’. Turk fake shuddered, adjusting his hot sauce themed do-rag.

Lucifer huffed. “Right, show’s over, can we get on with this?”

The Radiologist grunted when the group filed in the darkened room. “Hey buddy, can you remove the ring?”

Indignation washed over his face. “No.”

Dan looked at the ceiling. “Luc-uh, John, are you sure?”

“Yes. It doesn’t come off. Does it have to be ‘John’? Can’t we use something without Biblical roots?”

Carla’s Spanish cursing continued all the way up into the image room, then cut off. “It’ll be fine, at least he didn’t break his hand.”

Jim’s pale albino skin ran only a couple of shades lighter than Lucifer’s. “Okay, have you had a chest x-ray before?”

Lucifer’s voice was gravel. “No, I have not. Nor any others. With luck, I never will again.”

“M’kay. I’m going to have you stand next to this thing on the wall and then don’t move. Front then back, then raise your arms for the side images if you can do that. Try very hard not to breathe between the time I leave and the time I come back or we’ll have to do them again. I’ll be back between each pass, okay?”

He breathed out and nodded tightly. “I lit millions of stars. A few x-rays aren’t a problem.”

Jim smiled encouragingly “That’s right, chin up. You got this.” He had Lucifer stand with his chest facing the wall then headed to the shielded booth.

Lucifer did not sound appreciative of the guidance. “Dan, I think he’s mocking me.”

Jim grumbled again about not watching the screens, but activated the machine for Carla. It hummed and clicked off.

She looked over the preview image. “Okay, the first one is clear, but it’s a little weird. Jim, we can see what we’re looking for, so we’ll continue. He’s definitely got some small solid pieces of something in his left shoulder, and a broken left scapula. At a glance, the ribs under there don’t look great. Turk, I’ll pass it over to you in a second, okay?”

Dan breathed out for some reason. “What does ‘clear but weird’ mean?”

“It _means_ we got a nice clean image of his chest, but I’m waiting for Jim to leave. Whatever is floating around in his shoulder is clear, so Turk can work from it. I don’t like how close they are to his lung.”

Lucifer tossed them a look, but let Jim continue.

Carla inhaled sharply on the back view, muttering more Spanish curses under her breath. She added in English,“Still clean, next.” Jim clearly looked less happy than just a few minutes ago.

The side images had to be done laying on the table. Dr. Bianca went through his professional motions, guiding Lucifers left arm as far as it would move out of the way. His bedside manner suffered a bit from the imposition and late hour.

That said, Lucifer was not an ideal patient. “If for any reason I find myself visiting hell, I’m adding an entire hospital with stainless steel tables and all surfaces made of flickering fluorescent lighting.”

Jim gave them a last dirty look and left them alone in the room.

“And it’ll be staffed by multiple copies of James, the zombie Radiologist!”

Turk shook his head. “I’m almost happy he’s going to need surgery. At least he’ll be under for it.”

When the door shut, Dan dialed Chloe and set it to speaker. She picked up immediately. “Hey! What’s happening? How are you guys?”

Carla threw Dan a curious look and he held up a finger. “Our friends here are about to view some x-rays, and I figured you should at least be on speaker so we can answer any questions. I got a side look over Carla’s shoulder, and, well, yeah.”

Her voice on the other end was tight. “Okay.”

Carla threw the images up on the bigger flat screen. She knew there were some unusual shadows and hard white lines around the bullets and fragments, but she didn’t want to say anything if it turned out he had tumors, COPD or some other problem she couldn’t read herself.

Turk looked from the screen, through the window at Lucifer, who tensed. “Well, that ain’t right.”

Weak light from the screen cast the room in eerie pale blue.

Carla didn’t speak.

Dan waited.

Chloe waited.

Lucifer just asked, “Did they show up?”

“Yeah.”

“How much?”

“Not all.”

Lucifer cursed in another language _none_ of them knew.

Turk pointed. “Uhm, Luci? Did you know you have what looks suspiciously like half a chicken growing in your back?”

Dan answered. “Yeah, he knows. It sort of falls into that whole ‘people we can trust’ thing I mentioned earlier.”

“How are you upright, dude? This kind of damage would put most people half-under just from pain.”

Someone rapped on the door, making everyone except Lucifer jump. “Hey! Satan! It’s Elliot. Turk paged me and said you were here. Can I come in?”

Four people shot back, “No!”

“Well, frick you too! I’ll just be out here."

Carla glared at her husband. “Why did you do that?”

“Baby, it’s Elliot. And she seems to like the Devil Man. I didn’t know he was actually-” he waved at the screen “Chicken Man.”

Turk scratched his chin. “Is this like, some weird ass body modification crap? Cause you didn’t have to be all sneaky for that. It’s going to complicate the hell out of surgery though.”

Lucifer shifted in his hospital socks. “I’d rather be naked than wear this bloody sodding excuse for a body covering any longer.”

Carla waved absently, studying the screen. “Go for it.”

He did, dropping the thin, open back gown on the floor and kicking it away like it was a dead snake.

Dan watched the couple out of the corner of his eye. Turk was already in surgeon mode, dealing with the unexpected obstacles. Carla was somewhere else.

She spoke. “They aren’t body modifications, are they, Dan?” Her voice came out thick.

Lucifer, now comfortably naked save for socks, came up to the door of the x-ray booth. “They aren’t.” No one was looking at him.

Chloe’s voice drifted over the speaker. “Dan? Guys?”

Carla bit one of her nails. “There’s no scars. Surgical or other kinds-”

Elliot threw the door open, flipping on the forgotten light. “I am not going to stay out here-” She got an eyeful of naked Lucifer, who simply smiled tightly at her, making no move to cover himself. “Hooooo, hot man. Okay.” She shut the door. “I’ll just be out here.”

The interruption shattered Carla’s concentration on whatever inner thoughts she had running in circles. “Hot? What?” she turned. “Oh. I guess I do get to join the club. Damn, Luci. You should have been the entertainment at my bachelorette party at the strip club we wound up at.”

He managed one of his usual easy smiles. “And people wonder why I prefer this state.”

Turk wrenched his attention from the display. “What was that, baby?”

“Nothing, baby.”

“Guyyyyyyys?”

Dan directed his voice at the phone. “Oh, sorry, Chlo’. Lucifer is naked again.”

“Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. What’s the status of the x-rays?”

“Oh right, before I called, Carla said his left scapula is broken, maybe left ribs. They haven’t said yet how bad, but there’s bullet fragments near a lung. I’m guessing the bits are keeping the bones from coming back together.”

Turk picked up the end of the thread. “Say what now?”

Dan waved at the screen. “The good news for you guys is once you get the fragments out, something really freaky should happen and he should close up on his own. But then again, Lucifer has never broken anything before.”

Chloe asked over the phone, “Dan, did you bring one of _the blades_?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one just in case it could have been a simple slice and grab surgery, but it looks more complicated. Does Lucifer have a blood type?”

“Not that I know of.”

Turk, “Y’all just lost me. I don’t suppose he absorbed his twin by any chance?”

Lucifer squinted. “Last I saw, Michael was quite well.”

Carla supplied, slowly, “Some pregnant women start with twin embryos and end up with one fetus instead of two. Sometimes it works out fine and all the parts get successfully...consumed by the remaining one. Sometimes a kid is born with extra sinuses. I don’t think that’s what happened here. Those aren’t more sets of ribs, baby.”

Lucifer and Dan looked at each other. Carla was way ahead of her husband, but held back on voicing her opinion of what caused the strange results. She might be preserving her husband’s ability to function in surgery under stress. There were a few things she still didn’t know about though, and it could go very badly for Lucifer if they didn’t know what more to expect.

Dan, out loud, just asked. “Does the right one work?”

Lucifer _glared._ Everyone in the room felt it.

“I haven’t actually tried since the shooting. The other might _force_ its way out in the open, since the buggering things seem to have a mind of their own from time to time. Which will likely result in enough pain, even for me, to cause me to piss myself and pass out. But judging by the floors in this Dadforsaken place, something like that has probably already happened, multiple times, with other miserable denizens…at least now I know why your cousin stole my bloody trousers.”  

The door clicked open again.

Carla, over her shoulder, snapped. “Will someone lock that damn thing, please?”

Elliot reappeared, hands over her face. “Is he still naked?”

“Yup.”

She peeked out through her fingers anyway. “God.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. As did Dan. Chloe just sighed, and then in perfect unison, all three of them snapped, “Wrong deity.”

Carla cocked her head, eyes closing and dropping her face into her hand. “ _Diablo._ ”

“Yes, exactly. I always liked the sound of my titles in Spanish.”

“Baby, I might be joining you next time you go to church.” ...and Turk was obviously, finally, caught up with his wife.

“They’d love to see you again, sweetie.” He had moved the back view onto a portable pad and marked it with a grease pencil. “Hey, are these things connected? I can’t tell since not all the soft tissue is showing up, but if I can cut between the chicken wing bone and the weird knuckle looking thing, I should be able to lift it up out of the way to get to the fragments.”

Elliot finally took her hands off her face, taking in Lucifer in all his glory. “Uhm. Why is he naked? Not that I’m complaining?” She finally, finally clicked into ‘Doctor’ mode. “Are you okay?”

“I’m placing a ban on people asking me that after this is over.”

“Is he okay?”

Turk answered her, “No, he needs surgery to remove some fragmented foreign objects. Looks like metal. Might need a plate and screws for the scapula, so I’ll have Todd send some different sizes down to whatever O.R. is available. I’ve paged him, and the anesthesiologist on call.”

Lucifer gasped and slid down the booth door frame, white as a sheet. Elliot moved to check his eyes and pulse, grabbing her stethoscope.

Dan grabbed his phone. “Chloe, where are you?”

“I’m walking laps around the hospital.”

“Stop it, you’re in range.”

“ _Shit_ , I’m so sorry.” The sound of running feet clapping down asphalt echoed through the phone.

Elliot took his wrist. “His pulse is racing. We need to get him on a bed with an IV and Morphine.”

Carla moved around them, running out for a rolling bed.

Lucifer breathed shallowly, eyes unfocused. A tense twenty seconds later, he took longer breaths.

“His pulse is dropping.” She flashed a light in his eyes. “Pupils are slightly dilated, but not like they just were. Hey, can you see me?” She held up a finger.

“Chloe, you should be good now.” He dropped to his knees in a crouch next to Elliot. “Hey man, is that better?” Dan gently ran fingers through his partner’s hair. It was damp with cold sweat. “Hey.”

Near-black eyes found Dan. “My back is feeling somewhat less like it's trying to turn itself inside out, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dan leaned in and kissed Lucifer’s forehead. “Breathe with me, okay?”

Carla arrived with the bed. “How is he?”

“Chloe got out of range again, so he’s better.”

“Can you explain what that means?”

Elliot sat back off her heels, away from her patient. Her eyes flicked up to the screens through the doorway.

Dan sighed. “Do any of you have a knife or other sharp object on you?”

Carla nodded. “I have a box cutter, why?”

“Give it here.”

She looked at him, then pulled it out of her purple scrubs.

Dan looked at Lucifer for permission, who closed his eyes in resignation. He picked up Lucifer’s right arm, cradling it in his broad hand.

One-handed, Dan clicked the blade out and slashed across Lucifer’s forearm.

The three hospital workers jumped forward. “DAN!”

Carla gripped Lucifer’s arm, and there was nothing. Dan closed the cutter, dropped it and sat back on the floor and waited. Mindful of his shoulders, she turned his arm over, back and forth. She tipped her fingernail into his skin, pressing. It didn’t even make a white line.

Sitting on the floor next to her cousin, she asked, “Dan, sweetie?”

“Yeah, Cuz?”

“Are you having intimate relations with an actual devil?”

“ _The.”_


	2. Just add it to the list of things Dr. Cox won't be happy about

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hopefully thrilling conclusion to part 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta reader, Just_Mad_Enough is amazing.

Chloe’s voice sounded very far away over speakerphone. She choked on her words. “Is Lucifer alright? Babe? Dan?”

Dan answered, trying to calm her down, “He’s okay again, for now. Not to make you feel worse, but that episode was more serious than the last time you got too close. The broken bones must be really grinding on the fragments.”

She sniffed. “...I hate this. I don’t want to tell you how helpless I feel out here, I know you guys are doing everything you can but I’m just about losing my mind.”

“I know, he misses you too. They’re going to try to get an IV and pain meds in him without you in range for now.”

Carla found herself kneeling on the cold floor next to her cousin with her heels tucked under. She didn’t recall purposefully sinking to the floor, but she must have done so when she launched herself at Lucifer.

She hadn’t let go of his muscular, heavy right arm, holding it up with both her hands, his body heat seeping up into her skin and bones. Her fingers weren’t at his wrist, but she could still feel his steady pulse through her grip. He must be a wonderful heating blanket for his partners in cooler months.

Razor blades can do significant damage to a human body. The smooth floor should be sticky with fresh, quickly cooling blood, spreading on the linoleum tiles and sinking into the crevasses between them. A quick - and from the looks of it vicious - slice like that should have severed tendons, blood vessels, and muscles, opening him to the bone. Reality hung over her head like Damocles’ sword.

Right now, right this instant, Lucifer was any other patient under her slender, prodding fingers. Someone broke him, and he needed help. He was her patient to care for, be he angel or demon or anything else. Over the course of her career, she’d provided medical care without judgment to murderers and children alike. _Okay,_ she told herself, _SOME judgment for truly crappy adults._ But she never once let it impact how she treated their wounds and illnesses. She thumbed his central tendon on the inside of his wrist, and his fingers curled and contracted involuntarily like anyone else’s would. The onyx stone in his ring appeared to stare at her like a blind, accusing eye. The sight of it made her shiver more than anything else she’s seen today.

She lifted her chin and found his dark, slightly unfocused, and harried gaze and knew it was time to do her job and save the big, scary questions for later.

Turk recovered, absorbing the mechanics of the problem and bringing Carla back to herself with a simple, straight-forward question. “How am I supposed to cut him open, if he can’t be cut open?” Annoyance, rather than incredulity came through his tone.

Dan took Lucifer’s hand from Carla’s smaller ones, absently turning it over and running his thumb over the black stone ring. Penetrating heat and a thin layer of sweat coalesced between Lucifer’s palm and Dan’s. “One sec. Let’s get you up on the hospital bed, buddy. Can someone grab the gown?”

Pain alone can make a man vomit. If that happened, Lucifer would hide in his penthouse for the next three months. Lightbringer. Pride. Fall. You do the math.

The sickest Dan had ever been in life had been due to a horrific stomach flu years ago that left him curled up in the shower, naked and definitely not wanting to be seen by anyone. Pure misery wrapped up in a shit burrito combined with praying no one found him like that if he died of it. He could only imagine Lucifer felt similar, minus the praying part.

His partner wasn’t the only one who could drown in pride. After having spent far too long under a steady stream of cold water, he had cleaned the shower stall and crawled into bed before Chloe and Trixie got home. They never knew how violently sick he’d been.

He assisted Lucifer back to standing, with care. The latter’s color began to return to something above ‘vampire’ and edging into ‘Jim the albino Radiologist.’

Carla scooped up the sad, thin fabric and returned. “I can get you a couple of blankets too. There’s an IV bag up on the rolling bed with a morphine drip. It automatically limits how much can be delivered over time, but I can override that.”

Lucifer eyed the bed with open reluctance, leaning on Dan, who tried a gentle suggestion. “Might at least help the docs to find out how long it takes you to blow through a few doses of opiates.”

The Devil sat on what could only be generously termed a mattress, stubbornly not dressing. “It’s not like I measure out cocaine by the gram, but I suppose we can try.”

Carla washed her hands and grabbed gloves and supplies from the box on the wall, ignoring the casual mention of substance abuse. She prepared the IV line and needle. Her expertise let her quickly find a good vein in his right arm. “We do need to get an IV in for surgery, so I’m _assuming_ you had a plan for that part if it came to it.”

Dan motioned to the blonde Doctor. “She in your circle too? ‘That part’ has another layer of significance that maybe only you and his surgeon should know."

Carla glanced down at Elliot while sweeping a prepared alcohol wipe over the inside of his elbow. “Elliot was the one who asked Lucifer to come up last month so she could do a paper on his...Persona. If we need anyone else to run interference, she’d be the one to do it. So right now, we have a nurse, a doctor and a surgeon; that will be helpful.”

She added, matter-of-factly, “Elliot’s my best friend. She’s a bit of a flake, but she’s a good person and a good Doctor. We trust her.”

Elliot had pulled herself up from where she’d been crouching by Lucifer. She shook herself. “I guess my paper will have to be shelved now.”

Lucifer seemed to notice she was there again. “Why’s that?”

“I wrote it on the assumption you _weren’t_ something supernatural.”

“Mistake on your part, I’m afraid.” He sat stiffly, uncomfortable with the hubbub.

Dan chewed the inside of his lip, not liking how much pain Lucifer must actually be in. He made a decision.

Pulling out the wickedly curved one-handed dagger from inside his jacket, Dan presented it to Carla, handle first. Lucifer shied away from it out of long ingrained reflex, not yet keen to the fact that someone could be trusted with Mazes’ knives who _wasn’t_ Maze.  Dan cringed at just having to port around the damn thing. He hoped they wouldn’t ask him to do any of the _honors_.

“This blade can pierce his skin, and it’s from a matching set of the only things on earth that can do it, under normal circumstances. Carla, he can be maimed or killed with it, and I’m trusting you guys with this knowledge. The set belongs to Maze, and this one doesn’t leave my sight, or she’ll use her other one on _me_. Understand?”

Affronted, Carla looked away from Lucifer to him. “I’m a _nurse_ , Dan, all pointy objects I use are tools, not weapons.”

“I just want to impress on you how serious this thing is.” Dan didn’t even like the look of it, silver etched and every inch of deadly hell-forged metal, never mind the pretty design. Venomous snakes wear the brightest coloring, after all. He’d seen them in passing before he _knew_ , and anything even existing that could kill an immortal didn’t rest easily on his mind. Especially since said immortal was _his_ , dammit.

Carla cocked her head, hands occupied and in gloves. “Elliot, can you use that thing to make me an incision here?”

The question knocked Dr. Reid into professional mode, much like Turk had responded when presented with a tough surgical job. “Give it here.” Taking it, she tested the edge and tip with a thumb, eyeing it critically. “Shouldn’t I sterilize this?”

Lucifer growled. “No need.”

She took a quick look around for something to test the cutting edges on. Finding nothing else suitable, she settled for the tubing of her own stethoscope. Then, giving Lucifer a _very_ pointed look _,_ she disinfected it. She didn’t care if he was Satan, God or whatever. Better safe than sorry. Satisfied, Elliot poised the pointed tip where Carla indicated. “Uh… will this hurt you worse than a normal knife would? If… you know, a normal knife would work on you? Because I’ve never cut open anyone who wasn’t human. At least I don’t think I did and…” Lucifer shot her a glare that made her stop her rambling. She took it as the only okay to go ahead she was going to get, so she went with it, doubts or not.

Carla tied on a tourniquet, yanking the rubber tight. A single drop of blood welled up against the knife point, and Elliot got out of the way. Carla moved, slipping the IV needle through firmly, quickly and taping it in place. Lucifer grunted but didn’t comment. The creepy blade edge made a horizontal tear in his skin rather than a pinhole - she didn’t like it, but it worked.

“Okay.” She took the pre-readied saline solution, connected the syringe to the IV line and slowly depressed the plunger, making sure the fluid didn’t collect in a pocket, or even outside the vein. But it went in smoothly and she breathed out in relief. One obstacle down.

Elliot gingerly gave the dagger back to Dan, stepping away to wash her hands again. “Where did that thing come from?”

“You don’t want to know. But that reminds me, Chloe? Are you still texting Maze?”

“Yeah, she’s in the loop. _Not_ happy, but in the loop.”

Dan tucked the blade back into his jacket, one-handed, the other holding Lucifer’s. Elliot’s heart turned over, watching them. The same kind of scenes played out here at the hospital over and over again - a nervous loved one and an unhappy patient stuck in various levels of pain or immobility. Or both.

Carla checked her watch, exchanged the syringe for the morphine drip and opened the line tap. She watched the first drops of morphine go into the line, monitoring her patient. “I’m starting with a dose based on your estimated body weight.”

Lucifer sank back a little, Dan guiding him to a resting position so he wouldn’t put weight on his left arm. The Devil clung to Dan’s hand, perhaps without intending to. Warmth washed through his body, displacing at least some of the grinding, stabbing hot pokers embedded in his back.

He took a full breath for the first time in days and let it out in a low, relieved groan.

Dan unconsciously took a breath with him.

“I want to see how long a dose lasts before I give you more.” Carla checked her watch again, jotting notes on the clipboard.

Turk grease-marked something else on his tablet. “It’s going to take a while to find all the bits.”

Dan peeked at the tablet. “Even with the x-ray?”

“Okay, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud, but since his skin healed over the wound - flawlessly - I’m going to guess that several muscles and tendons did too. Which means there’s no clear path to either the bullets or fragments. They’re more or less held in place, but could still slip around. The initial gunshot wound probably caused a lot of tissue damage, but I’m not seeing much of that now.”

“Yeah, most of the time they just go straight through, or fall right back out.”

“.....”

“We _do_ try hard not to let him get shot when Chloe’s around, but he gets...enthusiastic.”

Elliot cocked her head. “What happens when she’s not around?”

“Uhm. Nothing except ruined clothing.” By the look on Lucifer’s unhappy frown, that was a worse fate than the bullets currently ruining his _insides_.

Turk continued. “ _Anyway_. He has some bones in here I don’t even have names for. I hope the freaky _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ artifact isn’t your only suggestion for getting into him. _Tell_ me you have another way for us to work on him.”

“We do. Chloe has a… very unique effect on Lucifer, for reasons I’d rather not get into. When she’s physically close enough, Lucifer can be hurt like anyone else.” Dan gave Lucifer’s hand a squeeze. “Otherwise, he’s as he is now.”

Carla glared. _Logistics. Keep thinking about logistics._ “Luci? You’ve got to be kidding me. You went in _knowing_ you could get hurt?”

Lucifer grimaced. “Actually, getting shot wasn’t my intention. But, It’s funny how when one spends enough time out of Hell, one grows slightly fond of one’s coworkers. And _they_ were getting shot at.” He looked down his body as if surprised to notice Dan’s hand still in his.

“Well, I can tell the morphine is working at least. Three minutes so far. Luci, can you give me a pain scale from one to ten?”

“Maybe a six. Opiates are one of Dad’s better inventions.”

She blew out. She _really_ wanted to ask what that was about Chloe shooting him, but now was definitely not the time. He sounded much more like himself though, voice less tight and clipped; nearly pain-free again, which was reassuring in and of itself. “Okay, you should be feeling less pain than that, even with the fractures. But if you don’t mind, I’m going to wait until they’re no longer affecting you to administer more.”

Turk came back around. “Stupid question time. What the _hell_ are those extra bits? I have to carve around another shoulder joint? Because that’s the closest comparison I can find.”

Lucifer one-shoulder shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest what to call those, and I doubt you’ll be cataloging them. _I’ll_ be fine if you have to sever things, but it won’t be pretty if they pop out without a solid support structure.” His lips tightened a little. “It won’t be pretty if they pop out at all, actually.”

“...If what pop out? Are you going to go all _Alien_ on me? Cause if so, I’m handing this off to the Todd as primary. There's only so much weirdness I'm prepared to handle.”

Lucifer and Dan looked at each other. Dan spoke. “They’re wings. They’re _a lot_ bigger than they look folded up. The vast majority of them aren’t...” He gestured vaguely “…’here.’”

Turk flipped his screen images between the different x-rays. “Bigger than a Turkey?”

Carla rolled her eyes. “Of course he goes straight to the farm birds.”

“Ostrich?”

Dan rubbed his face. “More functional. Pretty classically what we think of as ‘angel,’ actually. We were trying to avoid exposing you to them, but you and anyone else in the O.R. could be hurt if they come out during surgery. Lucifer’s body eats drugs for breakfast though and we have no idea what will happen under anesthesia. So.”

 _Logistics. Concentrate on what you need to do._ She checked her watch again. Six minutes. “Luci?”

“It’s wearing off.”

She leaned over him, holding a penlight up to his eyes. _Dammit._ “Okay, I’ll give it one more minute. You are going to give the anesthesiologist nightmares.”

His breathing tightened again, hitched. He swallowed. “I’d rather not give anyone nightmares.”

Carla jumped. _What did I say?_ She timed his pulse.

“Thirty more seconds. Hang in there, Chicken Little.”

That distracted him. “What?”

Elliot snorted. “You’re doomed. She gave you a nickname.”

“Doomed? Don’t be ridiculous. I know all about doomed, and this is not it. Nero, now, he was doomed. Did you know they built him his own bridge to enter Hell? It’s all gilded arches and marble walkways. Soldiers cheering him on left and right. He honestly thought he was welcomed into heaven, right until the moment when he stepped off and the soldiers took their masks off. See, they were all people for whose death he had been directly responsible, people he actually knew and betrayed anyway.”

“...I just meant that she likes you. But… good story, I think?” She turned around to Carla, trying to gauge her reaction, trying to get a pointer at how she should act, but her friend had apparently decided to ignore any weird things that came out of their patient's mouth for the moment, and thus just went on as if no one had talked at all.

“I’m just triple checking your vitals before I give you more. I think we’re good. I’m going to step you up now to a higher dose.”

She pushed the meds again. He relaxed, breathing deeply and his eyes went a little unfocused. “That’s nice, but I can think of much better reasons to be horizontal this long.”

Dan rolled his eyes but grinned. “Yup, he’s feeling better already.”

Turk’s phone buzzed with a page “O.R. is ready. Todd wants to know why I haven’t sent the x-rays yet. He’ll have to sit on his hands until we get there. Dr. Page was on call for anesthesia.”

Carla went behind Lucifer’s bed. “Okay, Elliot, you go ahead and make sure our path is clear and Turk and I will follow you. I only need a minute to pile a few blankets on him. Dan, can you grab them out of that cabinet?”

Chloe’s voice drifted over, “Hey, which side of the hospital is the O.R. on?”

“Right wing from the main parking lot. _Your_ right facing the hospital. We should hang up now, but text if you need to.”

* * *

 

Lucifer grumbled. “Can’t you just do this with me awake?”

Turk and Carla exchanged a look, answering simultaneously. “No.”

He huffed. “Well, why not? I participated in the Greatest Fall of History - unwilling or not. I’m sure this can’t be any worse than _that_.” Unimpressed stares. _Really now, this is ridiculous_. “How about just drugging me to the gills?”

Turk patted his leg through the scratchy hospital blankets. “You’re going to be fine, buddy.”

“I am _not_ your buddy. And the lights are nauseating. Half of your drop tiles should be replaced.”

Exasperated, “Just close your eyes and stop looking at the ceiling.”

Dan walked on Lucifer’s left. More empty beds rested against the hallway walls. “Hey, if you need blood, can I donate?”

Carla smiled across from him, on the other side of the rolling bed. “That’s a sweet thought, Cuz. We don’t have his blood typed yet, but we should have time to take a unit of double red cells from you, since they still have to prep Todd. Keep in mind, they won’t be able to use it if you aren’t a match, but it’ll get used by _someone_ even if he can’t.”

“Yeah, I’d like to do that. Or maybe Chloe can if I’m not.”

The Devil piped up. “My body should be able to just use it. Nothing human or human-made can harm me. Usually. Are we there yet?”

Turk sighed. “How about you let us run the type test, and we’ll decide so we don’t accidentally cause massive blood clots?”

“Do I get any say in the matter?”

“At this point, you really don’t.”

Lucifer swallowed. He reached up to rub at his chest

He coughed.

It was a little thing - a short, contracted exhale.

Dan ran his fingers through Lucifer’s hair gently. He was in a cold sweat again. “The morphine must be working, at least. Chloe’s nearby again and he's still not passing out from pain.” he texted her to tell her she’s in the right place for surgery, now, and to back away until called.

Lucifer’s breathing became shallow and rapid. Confusion and not a little tension crept up his face.

Carla stopped rolling and yanked her stethoscope off her neck. It didn’t take her long to figure out what went wrong, not for something this common in an ICU. Red flags flew. Her husband caught it too, exchanging a look with her.

“Hey, Dan? Do me a favor and tell Chloe to get in here? And to be quick about it?”

To his credit, he didn’t ask any questions, just squeezed Lucifer’s hand once, reassuringly. He stepped away and hit speed dial with a backward glance. Chloe picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, did you move away yet?”

“Yeah, I went back to where I started.” She sounded a little miffed.

“Right. Change of plans. Get in here. We’re outside the O.R., follow the signs to your right? Right from the front door.” A second of silence, then with an inhaled breath, “Alright. On it.” There was a time to question instructions and a time to follow them; she knew which was which.

Dan dropped the phone into his pocket, not bothering to jab the red ‘end call’ symbol. Returning at a fast clip to Lucifer’s side, a few steps that suddenly felt longer.

“She’s comin-” Dan arrested his movement, eyes drawn to the minor but telling differences in Lucifer’s exposed skin. He wanted the onsetting bluish tinge to be either a trick of the light or his imagination, but he feared otherwise. The brick that dropped into the pit of his stomach didn’t help either. The fact that his Devil seemed mostly out of it, hand lax in his, eyes more than halfway closed, didn’t help at all. _No, no no no…_

His heart wound up like a screw, forgetting to breathe himself. “...Carla?”

His cousin’s face grew soft and worried, which made _him_ worry more. She drew up to meet his lighter eyes, ‘Nurse Face’ fully engaged. “His lung collapsed, don’t worry-”

“Don’t worry?! What the fuck! Do something!”

Okay, so maybe it’s not a good idea to shout at the people trying to help, but give him a break. Even heavenly beings needed functional lungs. _And_ breathe to fucking survive!

“Dan, sweetie, it will be fine. We’re nearly in the O.R., and he’s still getting enough air until we get there. Calm down, you’re not helping him. Talk to him.” She motioned to the prone man, whose eyes were a bit more open now, tracking them. Worried. Afraid, even if he’d never admit it.

 _Deep breaths, Espinoza. You can lose the plot later._ “Yeah. Okay, yeah… so hey, Luce, did I ever tell you about Trixie’s first time riding a bike? Chloe and I…” It was an easy ‘go-to’ story, one he’d told before at kids parties to other adults and it rolled off his tongue without thinking too hard about it.

He didn’t know if Lucifer was listening to the story, or just to his voice, but he seemed calmer either way. They got Lucifer into the O.R. and onto the table there in record time.

Chloe rounded the corner just then. She had her badge out and visible, meaning she flashed it at someone on the way in, but still missing seeing them by seconds. She found the observation window, leaning on it.

They got him settled as fast as possible. By now, Lucifer barely noticed anything at all, the morphine and lack of _air,_ even with the oxygen mask now covering his nose and mouth _,_ taking their toll even on him.

Carla kept checking the boxes on everything they did against protocol. There were barely any fucking boxes _left_ by now.

None of them were properly scrubbed in, Todd was sitting in a corner, banned there by her glare, and the anesthesiologist kept shooting them worried glances. But needs must, so Turk slapped on a mask and a fresh pair of gloves - foregoing proper procedure again - took a scalpel and turned himself into the first human being to perform surgery on the Devil. Probably.

This was a problem more or less easily alleviated until the real fix could be done. Tiny incision, insert tube, fixate tube. Barring further complications, that would do the trick for now.

Dan tasted acid in his throat. He had seen bodies in truly horrible shape, but nothing trumped the sound of air being released from Lucifer’s pleural space or the wet bubbling when the blood started to flow out from where it shouldn't have been in the first place. Police work somehow seemed easier than watching a loved one rescued by piercing a hole in them. _And leaving the fucking tube in._

Lucifer’s color improved rapidly. After the first few proper breaths, he seemed to be more aware of his surroundings. His near-black eyes focused on the much hated overhead lights, then Dan.

Dan let go of Lucifer’s hand, and a breath, feeling like things were under control again. It went against every single hospital rule for him to be in here at all. There was no way he was going to be allowed to stay here during the actual surgery, nor did he actually want to. “See you on the other side.” _Simple. Keep it simple for now, don’t break down where he can see._

Lucifer smirked from the bed, attempting not to look miserable. “That can have other connotations you know.” He winced with speaking but looked relieved he could.

“You know what I mean, Satan.”

“Douche.”

Turk shook his head. “J.D.should never feel pissy about ‘Bambi’ ever again. I’ll send you over to the vampire unit, and you won’t see me again until after surgery. Any last things we should know?”

“Most of the feathers have sharp edges?” It fell flat, as far as jokes go, but he was trying not to panic. His hands were firmly stuffed into his pockets so nobody would notice them shaking from the adrenaline rush. He worked on breathing normally.

“Okay, great. So I get to look forward to possible death by a thousand paper cuts, too?”

“...I’ll just go get my butt to the blood center and hope they don’t disqualify me.”

“You do that. I still have to explain John Doe and what we need to do surgically, to Todd.”

The Detective hesitated. “Can I have a second?”

“We’re on the clock and off the books, remember? Make it quick.”

Dan bit his lip, glancing at Turk, who rolled his eyes. Probably having already seen every version _ever_ of this before.

Lucifer looked up expectantly, quirking his lips.

He darted in, pushed down the mask and cupped Lucifers jaw softly, stubble scratching his fingers. “We’ll be waiting for you.” he breathed in, pressing a quick kiss that Lucifer returned with more energy Dan thought he would have had to spare.

“Y’all are disgustingly cute. Now shoo, Cuz.”

Dan ducked his head and took off.

* * *

Post scrubbing in, Todd regarded their patient with oddly minor curiosity. Turk frankly had counted on it, relieved he didn’t ask too many questions unrelated to the planned procedure itself.

Turk ran an eye over everything, again. “Just think of him as our very own X-Men. Man. The one with the wings.”

Above the oxygen mask, Lucifer’s eyes took in the room, which was both good _and_ bad. Good because the chest tube seemed to be doing its job. Bad because…well, _for fuck's sake, the guy chewed through morphine like Cox through new interns._

“Dude! Archangel five!” holding his hand up.

Lucifer glared.

Turk shook his head. “Todd, just ‘Angel’. Archangel was the upgrade, he got replacement wings made of some kind of silvery-blue metal. Angel had ‘regular’ wings.”

Lucifer glared harder. He was _not_ an X-man, no matter that he actually had replacement wings.

Todd seemed to think about it. “...Dude.”

“Metal wings would be harder to work around. Probably heavier too.”

Todd glanced up at the surgical lights mounted from the ceiling. “Do we need wing clamps?”

Turk paused in arranging his tray of delicate instruments. Lucifer rolled his eyes straight back. “We should be good. Oh, Dan’s blood turned out to work fine, so will Chloe’s. You’ll want to know that you’re AB positive, so you can accept anyone’s blood. Should save us from having to use our in-house supply.”

For some reason, Lucifer looked vaguely annoyed at the news. Turk wasn’t sure which part he reacted to.

“Okay, _Angel_ , that nice lady over there, Dr. Paige Page - yes, that’s her real name, no, there’s no joke she _hasn’t_ heard about it before - is going to count back from ten, and you should be out by the time she gets to six. We’re in an operating room with an observation lounge, so Dan and Chloe may or may not come by to watch, depending on their ability to stomach watching us digging around in your back for scrap metal.”

“And last thing -” he stood poised near what looked suspiciously like an old-style _CD_ player. “I hope you like _Bell Biv Davoe.”_

* * *

Chloe leaned on Dan, standing at the observation window. The ‘vampires’ only took one unit of blood. She didn’t meet the weight requirement to donate two, and she didn’t even look like she could fudge her numbers for it.

She could see the doctors talking to one another, but the thick reinforced glass made it nearly impossible to make out anything other than that they had some kind of music playing. In the observation lounge, the air-conditioning vents hummed, generating white noise. Turk did a little dance shuffle, making her chuckle in her throat. They moved casually, confidently, getting down to business and taking up positions at the table that were familiar to them, even if the man on the table wasn’t.

Chloe felt helpless. Lucifer was.

Because of her.

Again.

Lucifer explained the ‘vulnerability’ issue. Really explained, after she saw him for who he was. She since heard about him going to hell, but she hadn’t been aware at the time. She hadn’t seen him lying dead. He wasn’t dying here, but chronic pain was no picnic either.

One of the many things she loved about him was that nothing held him back. She didn’t know how the body/soul thing worked though. If he died here, would he be stuck in hell? Would he be a soul only, or would he have a real, physical body? What would happen to his actual body - would it rot, like any other, or stay perfect and unchanged forever? There was a reason his vulnerability was a problem, right, not just temporary death?

He was under anesthesia and on his stomach, a sheet covering most of him. Under his black satin penthouse sheets, his form looked completely different. There was something about just _being_ in a hospital that added tension to everything. She could barely make out the too-rhythmic breathing of the ventilator they'd put him on. She knew it had to happen. She did. She knew that for whatever reason, his angelic constitution couldn’t deal with the metal fragments. That wouldn’t even be _in_ him if not for her.

The three medical professionals didn’t so much as glance toward the observation window, invested in preparation. Dr. Page monitored the various machines and other hardware clinging to her Devil so closely she didn’t have attention to spare anyone else. She wasn’t participating in whatever Todd and Turk were doing.

Steel flashed under the operating room light, and Turk spared them a single look over his face mask to see if they wanted to move away now. They didn’t.

Elliot came through the doors, looking, well, sane.“Hey, guys.”

Chloe turned a little startled, “Elliot? Hi. Sorry, do you prefer Dr. Reid here?”

“Whichever. Just don’t call me mole-butt.”

“...You got it. You ever do...surgery?”

“Nah. We all went through the same classes though, which included cutting into cadavers. I prefer responsive patients whenever possible. Ella probably did some of the same training to get into forensics.”

She nodded, mind not really on the responses, “Turk is...good, right?”

“He wouldn’t have lasted this long if he wasn’t. From what I hear, only Todd is higher on the surgical totem pole for Residents. For real though, Turk asks for more difficult surgeries all the time and gets them. This one is pretty straight-forward - the removing-stuff-from-people-thing is pretty standard.”

Dan broke away from staring through the window, incredulous. “Todd? The high-five guy?”

She laughed, combing her bangs out of her face. “Totally. He doesn’t get in his own head. They’re the best two you could ask for, aside from Dr. Wen, Head of Surgery.”

Chloe arched an eyebrow. “Either way, I owe you guys a few rounds of drinks. And then some. Uhm. I didn’t catch everything over the phone, are you...?”

“Okay since I found out my paper is probably useless? I don’t know if you have heard of my ability to dive headfirst into a steaming pot of denial, but it’s working pretty well right now.” She nodded to herself. “Everything aside, getting to look at something new, medically, is always fascinating. And this is new. Who knows, maybe we’ll end up getting more strange visitors in need of help.”

“You’d be okay with that?”

“Are you kidding? How exciting would that be? I mean, not that it would become a recognized specialty or anything. But still. Turk is probably kicking himself because he knows he can’t publish anything about this. I know I am.”

Dan looked back at the procedure now underway. He swallowed. Turk had been busy - several skin clamps were employed, poking up like a silver porcupine to make a clear operating area. Todd appeared to be carefully lifting a ...bloodied _something_ for Turk with another thin instrument, from opposite sides of their patient. They were still working within the expanded incision, so not much was actually visible from their angle. Thankfully.

Turk caught them watching, so he displayed a bit of metal in surgical tongs for them. It was barely visible, but he held it aloft like a gory trophy. He dropped it in a metal bowl and went back in, switching to long, narrow tweezers.

Elliot stepped up closer to watch with them. “See, he’s already getting stuff out of him.”

Dan held Chloe. She buried her nose in his shoulder, breathing in his comforting, familiar scent, taking the comfort offered. Minutes passed and Chloe found herself starting to accept that the goofy men on the other side of the glass knew what they were doing.

She directed a question at Elliot. “Did you always want to be a doctor?”

“Since I was little. Yeah. I thought about going the vet route instead, but all cats hate me for some reason. I only get along with Rowdy because he’s stuffed. Oh, and also, goats? Nasty, disgusting things.”

“Goats?”

“Goats and rabbits despise me. Those assholes bite. Pretty much everything bites. Have you ever had a rabbit bark at you? It’s a little unnerving.”

“Lucifer doesn’t like goats either. I think that’s the second time I’ve heard about ‘Rowdy’?”

Elliot didn’t miss a beat. “Turk and J.D.’s dead golden retriever.”

Chloe didn’t know what to make of that. Dan spared them a glance.

“Oh, they found him that way, at a yard sale. He wasn’t actually _their_ dog.”

 _Is that better or worse?_ “Uh huh. Are the three of them… ?”

“Pfft. No. J.D. and Turk are the walking definition of a bromance, but that’s all. It’s actually really nice to see men who aren’t terrified to be close friends in public. True fact: Turk will hug J.D., but no one else he isn’t married to.”

“Speaking of which, is anyone going to come looking for you? Dan mentioned something in passing about J.D.?”

“Nah, I told _him_ the Janitor told _me_ that he came back to work tonight to stalk him in one of the men’s bathrooms. He’s totally preoccupied with going down to the bar to pee. Which means he’ll be doing it every ten to fifteen minutes out of sheer paranoia for at least another hour. He’ll probably hear about our John Doe eventually, but he’ll be out of our hair tonight.”

A smirk crossed Chloe’s face. “That’s funny.”

“What is?”

“John Doe. J.D.”

Elliot giggled. “I’m so using that the next time we get a real John Doe admitted.”

“Still, you don’t want your other doctor friend in on this?”

She crossed her arms against the cold room. “Naaaaaaaaaaaaah. Not yet. I’m still mad at him for dumping me at Carla’s rehearsal dinner. Plus, there’s nothing to diagnose, which is kinda his bag. Turk won’t be able to keep his mouth shut, at least to J.D., but a month or so will pass where he thinks Turk is pulling a massive prank on him, then he’ll come to me after he figures out I _was_ actually here, and then I get to mess with him some more. So I basically win all around. For me, that is.”

“He _dumped_ you at a wedding rehearsal dinner?”

“Yuuuuup.”

“Screw that guy.”

“Ha! Never again.”

The levity helped Chloe. No matter what, Lucifer would live through this. He wasn’t in mortal danger, even if life had sucked for him for the last week.

And then Lucifer’s shoulders flexed. Todd and Turk looked at Dr. Page, who did something.

Dan noticed it too, his throat suddenly dry. “Is that supposed to happen?”

Elliot squinted at the table inside. “What?”

All three of them leaned in together to peer through the window.

The leading edge of white feathers _slammed_ into the reinforced glass with a blunt thud.

“FRICK!!” Elliot plastered herself against the far wall, grabbing at the neck of her scrubs.

Dan yelped, “Son of a bitch!” Chloe had embedded her nails into his forearm.

“CHRIST ON A BIKE!!!!” Five seconds punctuated by metallic clattering passed over an eternity. Turk’s voice carried over again, a little thready. “We’re okay. X-man missed us.”

Dan yelled, “Is _he_ okay?!”

The closer wing edge slid down the window, revealing a mess. The far one, the left one, was more red than white. It had sent a number of instruments flying and violently overturned a cart. Crimson coated feathers appeared to stick to the opposite O.R. wall with bloody surface tension. Lucifer’s body hadn’t moved. He wasn’t awake mid-surgery, at least.

Turk indicated the comm wasn’t two-way, but added, “Sorry, I meant all of us! He’s okay too! We have some more work to do though. I’m pretty sure he threw out a bullet too.” He looked up at the ceiling, presumably for said bullet. Todd was a little cross-eyed. “He didn’t throw out anything important.”

Chloe held her mouth. Her stomach roiled. Where the left wing erupted from the damaged shoulder, it angled a bit _wrong_. Tendon and pale, gleaming bone anchored where she might have expected it, but a longer flat bit stuck up, away, wet strings of viscera stretched taut between bone and body. Where the wing normally blended into skin, a torn gash the entire width of the wing base gaped wide, short wet feathers above and raw skin edge below.

The ventilator pumped, tubes undisturbed. Lucifer’s IV, however, ripped out in the commotion, yanked by his own wing.

Todd snapped out of it, checking their patient and hurried to get a new needle out of sterile packing and into the thankfully-still-unconscious man, re-connecting it to the IV bags.

That done, he moved under and re-positioned the blood-spattered wing, so it wasn’t pulling itself out of the socket with its own weight. He propped it up over another rolling cart, while Turk walked back and forth a few times, nodded and went back to work. “Would one of you mind telling Carla I’m gonna need a new pair of scrub pants after this? For them too, probably. Actually, Elliot, scrub in and join us here, I think we need more hands. I need a new set of sterile tools, too.”

Dr. Page hadn’t moved a fraction of an inch, maintaining her task at hand. They didn’t know if she remained just that focused or was slipping into shock. EIther way, Lucifer himself didn’t come out from under the drugs.

* * *

When Turk felt certain the last fragment had been found and removed, they sent Chloe out again.

Turk was easily persuaded not to install a plate and screws. They had sent Chloe away after all the foreign objects had been removed and, lo and behold, flesh and bone did indeed begin to knit together right under their noses. Stitches also proved unnecessary. Dan called Chloe back the _second_ the last signs of the incisions on his back had disappeared again.

Within minutes of Paige slumping away from her machine, Lucifer came out of it.

Regardless, he couldn’t be wheeled out of the O.R. with his wings dragging on the floor.

De-tubed, all around, he eagerly pulled himself into a sitting position. Then he took in the blood-spattered surgeons.

“That seems like a rather lot of-” Lucifer caught a view behind him. “Well, this is slightly awkward.”

He spotted his Detectives outside the observation window and waved at them.

Turk got his attention. “Uhm. Can you put those things away so we can clean up?”

Lucifer fluffed his sticky left wing. Or tried to. “Have you got a hose?”

Paige opted not to even turn around until everyone else had left.

*****

Chloe perched on the hospital bed next to Lucifer, both sitting up. Their hospital helpers insisted he stay for at least a little while just for observation. The Devil flatly refused to put the gown back on, and finally got his trousers and jacket back, both items lying folded on a chair. In the meantime, he went buff under the blanket.

Before too long, Carla knocked and came in with a little glass jar, marked ‘HAZARDOUS WASTE.’ Several metal bits tinked against each other inside, sharp and shattered.

“I thought you might want to take a look at these, maybe take them back with you.”

Dan took the jar from her. “They are kinda weird. Were any of the bullets intact?”

“Nope. This is everything Turk and Todd removed. He thought something embedded into the ceiling but they couldn’t find it.”

“Might as well bring these back to Ella. Maybe she can figure out which gun fired them. We had multiple shooters that night.”

Carla tucked her hands in her pockets. “How are you doing, Luci?” She noted the lack of a gown. “I just wanted to look at your shoulder if that’s okay?”

He smiled and started to hop out of the bed.

She coughed. “You can stay there.”

Lucifer’s velvet voice was back with a vengeance. “You’ve already seen everything, darling.”

Chloe smirked.

Carla licked her lips. He really _was_ temptation itself, wasn’t he? “You’re also a foot and a half taller than me.”

He gamely stayed on the bed, turning for her, but not without throwing in a ‘your loss’ look.

Carla manipulated his shoulders, one then the other, checking his range of motion. Not something she would normally do on a patient an hour out of surgery.

He looked good, but she grumbled anyway. “By rights, you should be here another week. You all can go home, soon, we’re just organizing the paperwork. You blew through about 26 hours worth of anesthesia so we’re trying to figure out how to explain that. And before you offer to pay the bill, it’s not a matter of just charging you for it, as it was used in a _two hour_ period.”

Lucifer stretched when she let go, arms above his head. “This almost feels better than sex, after a week of not being able to stretch properly.” He was well aware she got a fantastic view of his back. He arched, reaching for the ceiling. “You and your colleagues do good work.”

“Uhmmm.”

Dan couldn’t help but grin at her face. He did have a _very_ nice backside.

“Would it help if I offered to make a donation, if the dreaded _paperwork_ doesn’t allow for an itemized bill?”

“Oh, I’m sure it would, but it might need to be a bit more than we would actually figure out how to charge you?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

She smiled wryly. “Make it enough, and you get a wing named after you, or at least a conference room.”

He made a last sensual groan and dropped his arms. “Oh, that sounds fun. The Lucifer Morningstar Wing at Sacred Heart?”

Carla fanned herself and stepped away. “Ahem. Speaking of wings?” She picked at her stethoscope.

“Yes?”

“Can I…?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes dramatically, gathering the blanket around his waist this time, before swinging off the bed. “I don’t do this for just anyone, you know.”

* * *

The following morning, the Janitor was called to fix a resistant door in surgery. After checking all the hinges and finding nothing, he poked into the top and bottom edges. A single long, white, now thoroughly mangled and blood-encrusted feather was jammed into an overhead corner.


End file.
